The Gentleman
by M'rika
Summary: Meeting someone by the river. Always an ... interesting thing.
1. Chapter 1

Somehow everything always managed to stop on the right side of good. She sighed; putting more of her weight on the rusting railing she was leaning on, facing out to sea. Would it be so much to ask to stay firmly in the middle of good? Or be on the wrong side of bad. It was late, maybe eleven o clock, but the sky was still a mid blue, the top darker than the top as though it was a watercolour that hadn't been finished. The stars were already out though, as if like children on Christmas morning, they just couldn't wait any longer. If she strained her eyes, she could pretend to still see a sliver or dusky pink on the horizon, but it wasn't true. Night was falling, and that gorgeous part of the day where everything is bathed in an orange glow and strands of pink illuminate the sky had long gone. The smoke from her cigarette drifted upwards, curling and spiralling, mesmerising her for a few minutes, as she tried to see the other worlds that must surely exist inside the misty swirls. She shivered, as a cold breeze danced across her shoulders. She wasn't dressed for the night. A white vest top, a black pleated miniskirt, and knee high clumpy boots, with a small bag that surely only had enough room for a packet of cigarettes and bus fare slung on one shoulder. As she gazed out to the distance, she took a drag on her smokes. Men never cheated on her but left her, politely extricating themselves from the relationship. Bosses never fired her, but disciplined her. Police never caught her, but chased her. She sighed, emitting smoke like a dragon.

"Its dangerous out here darlin'." It was a male voice, a blonder svelte man who had come and leant next to her. He looked at her. "And it's mighty late to be out on your own."

She smiled, her pale lips curling up. "I like the night. And I can handle myself." She tapped the cigarette lightly, ash tumbling to drop into the icy depths of the sea.

"So you're a…?" The man didn't finish the sentence. Its funny how some sentences you don't need to finish, but can leave hanging. He didn't seem to have any emotion in his voice, just blank neutrality.

She grinned, still looking out to sea. "Maybe. But you'd have to ask fees to find out."

A brief smile graced his face. "And your fees are?"

"Non existent. But you can pay if you want." She sighed, stretching, her top lifting a few centimetres revealing her pale stomach.

"Dinner sound good?" he began lazily. "There's an amazing Thai place up-" He was cut off by a slim finger on his lips. She shook her head, her dark hair tumbling about her shoulders.

"I don't want a gentleman," she murmured, her breath warm on his face, and he blinked. "I don't want to be wined and dined. I don't want to be walked home, and talk about the weather. I want to be bad." The last word was drawn out, running over his face like gold dust.

He raised a curious eyebrow. "How bad-" Once again he was cut off, but this time she kissed him hungrily. He staggered back, surprised, but unresisting. When she pulled away she grinned, like a vampire before they strike. "Very."


	2. Chapter 2

He'd been striking out all night. It was as if the female population of New York had suddenly decided that he was not the best thing since sliced bread, and some of his best lines had failed spectacularly. He'd been considering going to a club, but he wasn't sure he could be bothered if he was just going to get more vodka and cranberry in his face. As it was, he'd been just walking when he spotted her. Short skirt, dark hair. Looking a little forlorn, leaning on the railing. He wondered if she was thinking about jumping. He felt he should tell her not to, because the Hudson wasn't pretty. He started to walk towards her, and then saw her face. She wasn't thinking about jumping, at least not yet. For one thing, she had a cigarette going, and no smoker would waste one by jumping into the river. Secondly, he was going to talk to her, and no-one had ever jumped into a river talking to him. He quickly scrolled through all the possible opening lines, and then mentally kicked himself as he started with a Texan accent. He even used the word mighty. He inwardly shuddered. But she seemed to smile, and answered. He knew she wasn't what he'd just asked her if she was, but in his wide and vast experience, how women answered a question like that was a sure fire way of finding out how his chances were. And she flirted back. Inside he was grinning. Finally, someone was on the hook. It had taken far too long tonight. He allowed a small smile to ghost across his face as he asked her about fees. He suggested dinner, because it seemed like the way to go. She seemed like a girl who would order oysters, and talk about her sleazy ex boyfriends. She seemed like the kind of girl who would ask sincere questions about his family, while running her foot high enough up his leg to count the change in his pocket. Not that he kept change in his pocket. That went in his wallet, which lived in his suit jacket. Because he was thinking all this he was surprised when she cut him off. When she told him she wanted to be bad, he realised she was definitely his kind of girl. Sexy, cute, and did most of the legwork. He forced himself to remain nonchalant as he asked precisely how bad she wanted to be, and when she kissed him, he pretended to be surprised, but savoured the taste of her lip balm. It had to be lip balm because it wasn't sticky.


End file.
